Fighting Fear
by khanmiR1
Summary: AU: The Curse of Andraste has been set into motion, throwing Thedas into complete chaos. The Chantry wonders why the Maker has turned a blind eye, and only one being has the power to bring true peace. A retelling of the Inquisitor's story, complete with DA mythology, history, and religion! Eventual femInquisitor(mage)xCullen pairing, as well as many other pairings.


**Characters:** default Female (Evelyn)Trevelyan (mage), Cullen Rutherford, everyone else that I can fit into the story.  
 **Timeline:** takes place throughout the time of all three games, however only ever mentions the first two through flashbacks, or brief instances in Cullen's and the Inquisitor's life. In Andraste's viewpoints, the timeline is unknown and not specified...yet.  
 **Read this story if...:** You are interested in Dragon Age mythology, history, and religion in an AU viewpoint. I go into detail about how everything *could have* started, explaining many of the unexplained aspects of the game (ie: the Old Gods, Andraste's life, the beginning of the darkspawn, etc.)  
 **Rating** : T for now, but will be changed later to M when we get to that point.  
 **Disclaimer:** I'm not taking credit for anything that Bioware made. Just incorporating their elements to retell the story in a different way.

Open to any suggestions, input, and questions.

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Grandfather was an old and wise man. Wise from the many long years through life's toughest trials. "I was molded from a babe to hunt, youngling. I was good at it." He would trail on for a few hours after introductory sentences of this like. They came to him like waves. Each time the child would ask him, he told the story with more life than the last. The small girl would listen with hungry ears. She would drink of the tales of the Fade and its battles, always wanting more, always asking for another anecdote. He could never deny her first request, though after two stories it was off to bed.

"But I don't understand all the way."

A wrinkled smile appeared on the old man's face, spreading through his lips, to his cheeks and shown through his eyes. He brushed a stray hair from her face and pulled her furs up to her neck, making sure to tuck in the loose blanketing around her legs underneath.

"All tucked in?" He would ask with a small inflection at the end, same as he always did. And the girl grinned with closed eyes in the most endearing way, same as she always did. "Mm." She would answer, nodding her small head in approval. A wrinkled hand reached across the girl's bed, to a small lockbox, bringing back with it a tattered stuffed doll. It was in terrible shape, and the man never ceased to wonder at how the girl could ever love such an ugly thing. But she would see it and gasp elatedly, same as she always did, and reach happily for it. He waited for her to snuggle back into place with her raggedy companion before saying the goodnight words, same as he always did.

"It is alright to not understand, little one. Understanding comes with life, and each tomorrow will teach you more than what you learned just yesterday."

A small sigh this time from the girl. It was new, as she had always fallen asleep after that. "But the questions I have cannot be answered with a new day, papa. I want to know about the things I dream." Her tiny hand lifted and pointed to the stars above them. "And each day brings a new one when I sleep."

Perhaps this was something he had been unprepared for. She was young, but with each tomorrow, came a new education for him through her words. She was young, but wisdom flowed through her as the waters all across Thedas. Perhaps it was time.

"Do you really seek true understanding, youngling?" To his dismay, she nodded fervently and sat up in her bed. He had worked to omit the truth, taking care to never reveal anything compromising during her young life. But he furrowed his brows upon realizing that he could never deny her the truth if she requested it. If his little one sought true understanding, who was he to hide it from her? Grandfather stayed quiet for some time. He had hoped his long silence would help her remember how tired she was. She didn't. Her eyes were like some sort of magical flame, boring into him her determination.

"What exactly do you dream, youngling?" He was stalling.

She knew he was, he could see it in the look she gave him. But she relented, and spoke of her nights in the Fade. She told him of her encounters with spirits and demons alike. On and on she rattled about her conversations with celestial beings and spiritual encounters. The more words poured out of her, the deeper Grandfather's brow furrowed, until they were so tightly knit together that he was practically scowling at his granddaughter. She stopped abruptly upon noticing his expression. He rubbed at his beard, perhaps for courage.

"Do you remember the myths of the Old?" He waited for her nod before continuing, "There is one that our family has kept and passed to each new generation. It is of a spectral form. Her existence was once one of grandeur and honor. Courage and strength. But she failed and her mortal life ended, thus beginning her struggle to fulfill her purpose. But her form was tethered to the Fade. So she chose to enact a spell." Grandfather sighed. "I will tell you a verse, youngling, and you must keep it close to your heart, for it is compromising and strange, and you will not yet understand it. Do not ever share it, but never forget it because I promise, when the time is right and the perfect tomorrow comes along, you will understand."

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 _Of colors soft yet vibrantly true,  
Of aura so weak yet strong in its hue,  
her words will be spoken and heard throughout time.  
Whispered in ashes of the fallen, through dirt and grime;  
in the Curse of Andraste is where a shepherd will rise._

" _What are you doing, Andraste?"_

 _She knew he had been listening long before he had spoken. Maferath's presence had always been a soothing one to her frayed nerves and she could pick out his aura from a field of a thousand spirits if she needed to. Tonight however, was a bit different than most. His presence didn't comfort her. Instead it made her alert and aware of her surroundings; it kept her on edge in anticipation of what was to come. It sounded much like cowardice when she truly thought about how she felt in this moment. But there wasn't any room in her quiet ritual for fear. Maferath's disappointment would soon make itself known, once he learned of her actions. Andraste resolved not to fall prey to it and instead took a break from her ritual to rest near him. One last moment of comfort before she ripped it away from the both of them._

 _She sat herself gracefully in a chair overlooking her meadow. Grassy knolls had always made her smile, so it wasn't a surprise she found them in the wake of her death. These were the moments she clung to. It was better than resigning to become a melancholy spirit whose thoughts always lingered with their mortal memories. She and Maferath had both agreed not to think upon their past lives. Andraste would never admit aloud that it had mostly been for her sake, however she would never deny it either. Their mortal life haunted her more than many a spirit that passed through her plane. It had only been natural for her to watch the ones she left behind while her lover moved on with the beings of the Fade. From her perch up above the mortal plane, she could see them all easily. She had come to both hate and love it._

 _Maferath never knew when her feelings had developed in such a way. But he had one day taken it upon himself to rid her of her hatred by informing her of their honoring. The mortals centered it around her. He thought she would be made happy by the revelation that her teachings had rung true, but it gave Andraste a rather disgusting taste of bile in her mouth. The more she reached out from the Fade to hear them, the more she heard them say. Of course, the more she heard them speak, the more obvious it became that they had twisted their worship of her to suit themselves._

 _Still, they used her name. 'Andrastian in nature' the mortals called it. That's how they referred to a particular way of action or even a particular personality. Her name was coined as a descriptive term for a type of person; an Andrastian. She sat and watched from her high cliff, disdain and disgust twisting her features. She hated them fully, with all of her being. Maferath came to her side then, placing a hand on her shoulder._

" _It is unbecoming of you to wear such terrible thoughts across your face."_

" _We are spirits now. Who, in all of Thedas, shall lay eyes upon our forms again?" Her spectral eyes cast downwards to her feet. They were glowing and translucent, just as the rest of her limbs now were. "I didn't ask for them to take my name."_

" _No one ever asks for the recognition they receive."_

 _She huffed angrily at her dead lover. "Who are you to be so tranquil? You take after their heinous acts as if they experimented on you." She watched as he stepped across the grass to the cliff. He hovered over it, examining the beings far below._

" _You know, Andraste, they are not actually below us. You are silly in your dreams, conjuring places for everything. In mine, the people of Thedas float all around me. It is quite amusing."_

" _It is because you've always lacked order in your life, Maferath." She quite nearly spat the sentence out. Her form was angry, and the air around her fed the emotion. He felt it spark around them and he turned to face her._

" _It has been many ages since our deaths. To what end do you feed your hatred for? Are you so lost in this place that you would rather return to a mortal life?" He looked above them, where their Lords would be in this organized dream of hers. Yet, the sky was strangely empty. No planetary being walked on their heads, no power was found in that part of the sky. Instead, the power crackled and flowed around his dear wife. She was dying for the second time, and his form ached for her._

" _I cannot help you through your despair this time, my love. The Fade is unforgiving as always. It will judge you and tear you to pieces if you so allow it. Take heed, Andraste. For the Maker will not hide forever, and we will need to be there when he returns."_

 _Her voice when she replied was not hers. Maferath noted with utter sorrow how her beauty had decayed. In their lives, her magic had always shone blue. Now it seeped red and he knew their time together was over. She had been corrupted, and there was no way for him to reverse her now unwinnable turmoil. "I will not be called what they use below me." Her voice boomed a powerful tone. It instilled an emotion inside Maferath that he had not felt since his death; fear. "The Maker is no maker, and you and I are no spirits. None of us in this place are. We speak with each other using the mortals' words, even though they do not apply to us. Why is that? They have defiled the very essence of this planet, Maferath. I sacrificed much of my life for the betterment of those…imbeciles! And they return the favor by creating chantries, built in my name. They teach the others of the wrongfulness of sins, yet they harbor such vile sins within their very walls! I fought and died for nothing." Her hands appeared blood red to Maferath now, and he wondered how much of the color was from his own imagination. But her actions confirmed that her aura had changed._

 _Andraste's fists slammed down against the arms of her new throne. Her realm was becoming dangerously close to Pride's. He could not give up._

" _You have become more powerful than you led on, Andraste. Where did you get that power, and for what purpose?"_

" _An Old God came to me yesterday. I saw it, Maferath, in all its glory like the Herald of a new age. It saw me and approached with a gift. The gift was power, of course. I was never allowed near such a feeling in all my existence. My death brought not only the end of that chapter of my life, but an overwhelming feeling of regret. Regret for not seeking the knowledge I should have sought out. This power granted me everything I needed to know."_

 _Maferath swallowed. "And what is the knowledge you should have sought as a mortal?"_

" _The knowledge of the Old Gods; of the Old World. Darkspawn bring new ages, Maferath, not mortals. Not elementals, not changes in weather, not dragons, not battles ending or wars starting or important women birthing babes or strong men usurping a throne. When the Old Gods walked the planet, the ages did not exist. Time was not a thing, the Fade was not yet made, and the followers of the Gods were free; truly free. Do you know what that means? It means that when the first human corrupted one of the Gods with the magic taught to him by the Gods themselves, was the beginning of time. And time is finite. And in that beginning, the Darkspawn were created. And since time is now finite, it must come to an end with the same thing that brought about its beginning. Darkspawn marked the age of Mortals, Maferath. And Darkspawn will mark the end of that Age."_

" _Then what role do you play in this game of time? What could the Old God have possibly wanted of you?"_

 _Maferath thought he couldn't sink any lower until he saw the wicked smile spread across his lover's face. She was evil and hideous, her features void of any hint of the beauty she once held. It was a cruel sort of mercy. Ugliness was easier to dislike, and Maferath needed all the help he could get in detaching himself from her. He steeled himself for her answer for he knew it was sure to shake his world._

" _I was chosen long ago by the Maker. Now, it is my turn to choose."_

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The first one was cute. Soft features, golden locks, dark and innocent eyes. Her eyes were his favorite part about her. They belonged to a dreamer. Despite them rarely looking in his direction, he thought they were more beautiful than anything else in their tower. Every day she'd be the first to wake and peek outside the mage's quarters into the hallway. What was she checking for? Her quick search either came up empty or left her satisfied, and she would enter the hall, stepping silently and nimbly through the corridor. His heart would flutter ever so slightly as she approached his post. This was the only time of day they ever locked eyes, and _maker_ if he didn't savor it. She would look at him through wisps of her hair and they would stare only for a few seconds. When she was close enough to touch, he would inconspicuously take a breath. Lilacs and something else sweet smelling, akin to strawberries, met his nose every day and it was the best thing he ever knew. After a few months of torture in this manner, Cullen began to notice the rest of her features; all being equally as pleasing as her irises. Her nose; cute. Her cheeks; cute. Her chin; _very_ cute. Her lips; Beautiful and not so cute at first.

Then, the terrible morning came. Some older guard had decided to play a trick on him and rub spindleweed in his knickers. It wasn't until a few minutes after standing at attention in his hallway position when the _itching_ started. It was truly one of the more cruel things to have been done. Poor Cullen had already gotten in trouble with the Knight Commander twice about not sitting still in his post. Agony was the only feeling in his blood and it was quite overwhelming. But then _the girl_ poked her head out of the doorway, looked both ways, and walked almost cautiously his way. There would be no deep breaths or shy eye contact this dreadful morning, for Cullen was using damn near all of his strength and will to keep absolutely still. He accidentally let out a small grunt of discomfort. _Andraste's tits, she heard me?_

She did. In fact, he hadn't realized until now that she actually stopped walking and was looking directly at him. He thanked the Maker and blessed Andraste a thousand times that he was wearing a helmet so as not to show his inevitably reddening face. Cullen was practically soaking wet in his armor from sweating nervously. How many minutes had gone by? She was usually long gone by now, but here she was, _smiling_ at him, absolutely oblivious to his growing discomfort. He stood straighter (if it was to lean away from her or correct his posture, he would never know) under her watchful eye. Her smile faded a bit and she glanced around them quickly. He could tell when she knew they were alone, as she had returned her shining face to look at him. He thought he might be in love. _That's probably the spindleweed talking._ Discreetly, though quite comically to Cullen, she reached her hand into her pocket, and withdrew her closed fist shortly after. He was stunned silent and frozen as he felt her small hand tuck _something_ into the collar of his armor. It couldn't have been helped that he breathed in when she leaned closer to him than any girl had ever been. As if in a dream, he heard her whisper sweetly, "An ointment for your…troubles."

Cullen's jaw dropped open behind his helmet and he watched her walk away from him for the day, headed to her lectures just as she always had. It was both the best and worst day of his life. In one single encounter, she had ruined his self esteem around her but also dangled a thread of heaven in front of him. She was beautiful and cute and quirky and flirtatious all at once…and he could never speak to her again. He knew in his young heart that she would talk to her friends and tell the world of some weird disease Cullen Rutherford had. He would become _that_ Templar, and no one would go near him. Of _course_ he would be doomed to a life of celibacy, because of a stupid prank. He was left alone in the hallway with an unbearably itchy ass and four more hours until shift change.

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 **Old Gods:** The idols of worship before the darkspawn were created. They were worshipped as dragons, and in this AU they play the same role. Since their origins are unknown, it is covered in this fic. **  
Andraste:** A woman that lived during the "Ancient Age". She was a prophet for the Maker, and continued her life as a war leader and religious icon. In this AU, she plays relatively the same role; with the main difference being the reasoning for her role. **  
Maferath:** Andraste's mortal husband. **  
The Maker:** The main deity of worship in the Chantry. In this AU, the Maker plays a surprisingly different role in all of this, despite being worshiped as an 'all-creator' by the church. **  
The Curse of Andraste:** A curse only a part of this AU. plays a huge role in all of this. **  
Darkspawn:** Same as the game. Their origin differs slightly and is explained later. **  
the Age of Mortals:** only a part of this AU. It is what Andraste will be referring to the humans' time on the planet as. This includes all of the Ages that the humans use to measure their eras.


End file.
